


Caught Red Handed

by Ana_Kagetsu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (very), Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, First Time, Frottage, I finally wote, M/M, Mild Angst, PWP, Panty Kink, Sam In Panties, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, a proper, because seriously, hey look, it's the Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1820560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ana_Kagetsu/pseuds/Ana_Kagetsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean walks in on Sam having some....alone time.  Instead of leaving like he knows he should, he stays, forcing the brothers to confront things they'd been hiding from each other.  And themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught Red Handed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaniiRebel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniiRebel/gifts).



> Soooo, this is definitely the dirtiest thing I've ever written (or probably ever will write, lol) You can blame/thank my dear friend DaniiRebel who, one day after reading a Sabriel panty kink fic, said to me "Now I want to see Sam in white panties on his knees in front of Dean" This is apparently what happens when you say things like that around me. I am so, so very sorry. 
> 
> Or not. 
> 
> You can find me over on [Tumblr](http://anakagetsu.tumblr.com/)
> 
> 6/21/14: Minor edits for a couple typos I missed and fixing some formatting I wasn't happy with.
> 
> 6/22/14: Found another typo. Note to self: No more posting stories at 1am

“Dammit Dean! Haven't you ever heard of knocking?” 

Dean stood frozen just inside the door to Sam's room, staring at his mostly naked brother.   _Only_ _ **mostly**_ _naked,_ his traitorous bastard of a mind whispered.   _And what he_ _ **is**_ _wearing..._ Dean shook his head as though trying to physically dislodge the (highly inappropriate) thoughts running through his head as he took in the scene in front of him. 

Sam stood awkwardly in front of a mirror, suddenly seeming much smaller than his 6'4” frame as he shrank in on himself in embarrassment.  When Dean had barged in, he had scrambled to grab his discarded shirt and was holding it in front of his waist, trying to hide what he was wearing. 

 _White. They were white._  

Unfortunately, there was no way for him to cover the smooth expanse of white nylon that stretched across his lower legs and thighs. 

Dean should leave.  Just...turn around and walk back out the door without a word.  Give Sam a chance to get himself properly dressed.   _What would he look like, rolling the delicate fabric of his stockings down his long, toned legs?_ Pretend it never happened.   _Oh, but it did._ He was a Winchester.  Avoidance and repression were practically family traits.  He was leaving.  Any second now.  Walking right out the door and never looking back. 

He stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. 

 _Well, fuck._  

Sam was staring, eyes wide in confusion and embarrassment.  A deep flush spread down his neck and chest and his pupils were blown wide, hazel nearly swallowed in black.  He shifted from one stocking clad foot to the other.  “Dean, I...” 

“Drop the shirt Sammy.” 

Sam blinked, mouth hanging slightly open.  “W-what? Dean...” 

Dean took another step into the room.  Without any apparent input from his brain, his hands moved to pull his flannel shirt off his shoulders and drop it on the floor next to his feet.  His voice was rough and a good octave lower than usual when he spoke.  “The shirt.  Drop it Sammy.  Now.” 

Sam gasped softly at the tone in Dean's voice and hesitated a moment before pulling himself to his full height and tossing the shirt to the side and finally meeting his brother's eyes.  The flush on his skin deepened and moved further down his chest, but the look he gave Dean was anything but embarrassed as he bared himself to his brother's gaze. 

Dean bit back a groan as he saw what his brother had been trying to hide.  A pair of white panties clung to Sam's hips.  They were made of sheer satin and did nothing to hide the arousal that had apparently not been the least bit dampened by Dean's sudden arrival.  The waist and legs were edged with lace and had small pink satin bows.  Over the panties, Sam wore a white lace garter belt with pink bows at the clasps, which were attached to sheer white stockings. 

Dean's pulse was racing, the blood rushing through his veins as it settled between his legs.  He couldn't tear his gaze away from the sight of Sammy's obvious erection straining against his panties, and had the sudden urge to find out what it felt like against his tongue.  He opened his mouth to speak, and knew he was damned the moment he heard the words that came out.  “You wear those for yourself Sammy?  Or were you hoping to be caught?”  He took another step towards his brother as he, very deliberately this time, pulled his t-shirt up over his head and threw it off somewhere to his right.  “Is that it Sammy?  You think about me seeing you in those?”  It was official.  He was going to hell. Again. 

Sam took a shaky breath and nodded, his voice coming out low and broken.  “Yeah, Dean.”  Before he could talk himself out of it, Sam crossed the room to his brother and sank to his knees in front of him.  His hands went to lightly trail along his waist and hips as he leaned forward and pressed hot kisses to the skin of his stomach and along the waistband of his jeans.

Dean's hand rose to tangle in Sam's hair, fingers running through the ridiculously soft strands, encouraging him to continue.  Sam moaned as he breathed his confession against Dean's skin.  “I've imagined you seeing me like this.  Imagined you wanting.  Taking.  How you'd feel.  Fuck.  Dean...”  He looked up at his brother, eyes shining with need as his hands came down to hover at the fly of Dean's jeans.  “Please...can I?” 

Dean groaned and tightened his grip in Sam's hair.  This was it.  His last chance to walk away and pretend everything was normal.  That _they_ were normal.  He closed his eyes for a moment before looking down at his brother.  He meant to say no.  He really did. But dammit, Sam's eyes.  Full of need and love and fucking hope.  The last of his resistance faded away and he nodded, voice rough with lust and a deeper, more terrifying emotion.  “Yeah. Yeah Sammy.” 

Sam grinned and nuzzled against Dean's stomach again as his hands made quick work of his jeans, opening the fly and pushing them down over his hips, along with his boxers. He buried his face in the tight thatch of curls at the base of Dean's cock and breathed deep, reveling in the scent of sweat and musk and sex and **_Dean_** **.** When he'd had his fill, he dipped his head and licked a hot, wet stripe along the underside of Dean's cock from base to tip before wrapping his lips around the head, sucking lightly as his tongue slid across velvety skin before dipping into the slit and gathering the essence there.  He moaned as the salt bitter taste flooded his mouth and tightened his grip on Dean's hips, thumbs digging into the sensitive juncture where thigh met groin.  A low thrum of love and pride surged through him at the helpless moans and gasps he was drawing from his brother.   **He** did that.  Dean was falling apart under **his** mouth.  And this was just the beginning.  With no warning, and absolutely no hesitation, Sam took a deep breath and sunk down on the hot flesh between his lips, swallowing Dean to the root. 

“Fuck!  Sammy!”  Dean cried out as Sam swallowed him down.  Sam's throat squeezed the head of his dick and everything was hot and wet and too much and it took all his self control not to come right then and there.  After a torturous fraction of a second, Sammy began to move, pulling off just long enough to gasp a ragged breath before diving back in.  He set a slow, but steady, pace.  His tongue dragged along Dean's shaft and teased the head on every upstroke.  Every three or four passes, Sam would push further, taking him deep and holding until he had to pull off to breath, only to repeat the process all over. 

Dean stared down at Sam, mesmerized by the sight of his dick sliding in and out between his brother's lips.  One hand tangled in Sam's hair, gripping tight as the other dug into his shoulder in an attempt to steady himself.  He groaned at a particularly clever twist of Sam's tongue.  “Holy fucking hell Sammy.  Where'd you learn to do that?” 

Sam pulled off enough to grin up at him.  A shining strand of saliva stretched obscenely between the head of Dean's cock and Sam's lower lip.  “Had an...experimental phase in college.”  With a smirk, he bent his head to take Dean back into his mouth, humming his approval at the hot, heavy weight of him against his tongue. 

Dean let out a breathless whimper as Sam worked him over.  He felt the heat and pressure of his impending orgasm twisting in his gut.  He panted and gasped as he was torn between two equally intense desires.  He desperately wanted to come; to spill himself deep in Sammy's throat; to feel him swallowing everything he had to give and then drag him up by that ridiculous hair and taste himself on his brother's tongue.  But.  He never wanted this to end.  He wanted to wring every ounce of pleasure out of this that he could, for the both of them.  He wanted Sammy spread out beneath him, writhing and moaning.  He wanted to savor every desperate noise and see his face when he came.  That last thought nearly undid him.  He swore and tightened his grip on Sam's hair, pulling him back off of his dick, which gave an almost painful twitch at the needy, desperate whine that tore its way from Sam's mouth as he struggled against Dean's grip, trying to get his mouth back around him.  Dean's other hand squeezed hard at the base of his cock, just this side of painful, as he fought to get his body back under control.  His breath clawed harshly in his throat as he stared down at Sam, his eyes hazy and unfocused with lust.  It was a near thing, but he managed to get himself under control enough to grate out, “Bed.” as he loosened his hold on Sam's hair. 

Sam's eyes widened as he nodded eagerly and scrambled to his feet.  He lowered himself onto the bed, legs splayed, one arm pillowing his head.  His free hand traced lazy patterns along his chest and abdomen as he stared up at Dean with dark eyes.  Dean took in the sight of his brother's long, tightly muscled body sprawled across the bed.  His gaze swept along the lines of Sam's stocking clad legs.  The sheer material clung like a second skin, highlighting every curve and dip of toned muscle, the creamy white marred only by faint dark smudges over Sam's knees from kneeling on the floor (And holy fuck, he should absolutely **not** find that as hot as he did.)  He lingered for a while on the sight of Sam's erection straining against his panties, just barely contained by the white fabric.  His gaze followed the V of his hips to the dip in his navel and then across the planes of his abs and chest before finally daring to meet his brother's eyes.  He groaned at the look of pure want there and started shoving off the last of his clothes, grateful he had decided to wander the bunker barefoot because there was no way in hell he had the patience for shoelaces right now. 

Once he was naked, he went to the bed and lowered himself beside Sammy, propping himself on his side, leaving a hand free to wander.  He ran his hand along Sam's leg, feeling the faint tickle of hair through the nylon.  Once he reached the lacy top, he paused for a moment, fingers teasing the edge where lace met skin, before drawing a single finger up the hard length of Sam's cock.  He grinned as Sam whimpered and twitched beneath his touch, desperate for proper friction but holding himself back.  Dean made an approving sound and kept up his feather light touches, exploring Sam's shape through the thin material of his panties.  “Looks good on you Sammy.  These your only pair?” 

Sam shook his head, fighting desperately not to rut up into Dean's hand and force more friction.  He could tell how much his brother was getting off on teasing him.  “N-no.  I...I have a b-black pair and... _fuck_... r-red and, _please, fuck Dean please_..... a p-p...” He trailed off as Dean's teasing became too much and he thrust up hard into his hand, moaning as Dean relented and curled his fingers around his cock, finally, **finally** , stroking him properly through his panties. 

Dean gave a low, dirty chuckle as Sam's restraint snapped.  After a few firm, slow strokes he leaned down, dragging his teeth along the shell of Sam's ear as he whispered, “What else Sammy?  What else do you have?”  Sam shuddered as Dean's hot breath ghosted along the sensitive skin behind his ear.  He tilted his head back and to the side, exposing more of his neck, an invitation Dean couldn't resist as he kissed and licked his way along the column of Sam's throat.  Sam closed his eyes and purred at Dean's ministrations before pulling himself together enough  to answer.  “I...pink.  I have a pink pair.  They were the first ones I ever bought.  They....uh...they remind me of you.”  

Dean leant up to look at Sam, who was blushing furiously, and gave him a quizzical look.  “Pink panties remind you of me.”  Dean's voice was flat as he watched his brother squirm uncomfortably.  He refused to meet Dean's eyes and his blush had deepened to a somewhat alarming shade of red when he finally blurted out, “Rhonda Hurley!  It..it was Rhonda Hurley, all right?  I...I saw w-when she made you put on her panties.”  Dean's eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth to ask, just, **so** many questions, but apparently that wasn't necessary.  Now that Sam had made his confession a dam broke and the rest came tumbling out almost beyond his control. 

“I used to...watch you.  With girls.  At first I told myself I was watching out for you.  Making sure you weren't going home with a Shifter or something.  First time I jerked off while watching, I couldn't tell myself that anymore.  God, I was such a little creeper.”  He choked out a grim laugh and covered his eyes with his forearm, hiding from Dean's eyes.  “Then I told myself I was watching the girls.  Just good, old fashioned peeping tomery.  Then I saw you with Rhonda, wearing her panties.  And you looked...you were so....”  He sighed and forced himself to look at Dean.  “That's when I knew.  I wasn't living vicariously through you.  I was living through **them**.  It was your hands I imagined when I touched myself.”  He gave a crooked half smile, this time with at least a little real humor behind it.  “Next day, I went to the mall and stole a pair just like the ones you wore.  Eventually I got others, but they were always my favorite.  I, uh, still have them.  Don't wear them anymore.  They started to wear out and I got new ones as close to the original as I could.  But, uh, sometimes when...” Sam coughed and looked away for a moment before turning back to Dean with a shy, hesitant look.  “when you were....gone” 

 _In Hell.  In Purgatory.  Pushing Sammy away out of fear and anger and pride.  Jesus Dean, how often can you hurt him before he stops forgiving you?_  

“I'd.... get them out and....sort of... sleep with them under my pillow.” 

Dean stared at Sam, eyes wide, hand still cupped over his, now soft, cock.  How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?  It was ten kinds of messed up and more than a little creepy, but also weirdly sweet and touching and, oh shit, he'd taken too long to respond and now the shy look in Sammy's eyes was turning into hurt and the embarrassment into shame and Dean knew exactly what he was thinking ( _Freak. Monster. Unclean_ ) and oh, hell no, Sammy was **not** allowed to think that and fuck, what was he supposed to do, he didn't know how to **talk** about stuff but Sammy was starting to pull away and if Dean let him he just knew things would be broken, maybe for good this time, and before he knew what he was doing he was kissing Sam and losing himself in his mouth and tongue and the feel of his huge hands gripping his hair and dragging blunt nails down the skin of his back and it was so.  Fucking.  Perfect. 

When he finally came up for air Sam was pressed hot and hard against his thigh.  He grinned and kissed his way along Sam's jaw up to his ear, sucking the lobe between his lips before murmuring, “Gonna make you come Sammy.  Make you ruin those pretty white panties.  Can you do that for me?” 

Sam shuddered beneath him and clutched at his hips, fingers digging into skin as he pulled Dean over and down so that he was lying on top of him with one leg pressed up between his thighs.  “Yeah.  Fuck.  Please....Dean.”  Dean's dick twitched at the effortless way Sam had manhandled him.  Sometimes he forgot just how strong his brother was.  He ground his hips down into Sam and dropped his head against his chest with a groan.  The hot, smooth slide of their cocks against each other through the silky material of Sam's panties was almost too much.  Dean pressed wet, open mouthed kisses across Sam's chest, focusing on the feel and taste of skin on his tongue in an effort to distract himself from the obscenely good friction building between them as they rutted together desperately. 

Within moments, Dean was on the edge, every thrust of his hips against Sam drawing out a low, moaning gasp.  Dean's rhythm faltered as he struggled to hold back.  He wanted to make Sammy come first.  Wanted to watch him fall apart beneath him without distraction.  He shifted his leg over so that he was fully between Sam's legs, their hips flush as he ground down against him.  Sam cried out at the increased contact and wrapped his legs around Dean's waist, locking his ankles together behind his thighs and urging him closer.  And holy fuck did that feel amazing.  The smooth slide of nylon combined with the firm press of toned , powerfully muscled legs was like nothing he'd ever felt before and he almost lost it right then and there. 

Dean lowered his head and mouthed his way across Sam's chest, stopping to suck a dark red bruise just beside the tattoo above his heart.  He pulled back enough to look at his handiwork and felt a jolt of possessive satisfaction at the sight.  Sammy was his.  Always had been, even if he hadn't known it (or allowed himself to acknowledge it) until today.  And now there was proof.  Dean had finally claimed what he'd denied wanting for so long.  He groaned at the thought and bent to kiss along the side of Sam's neck and up across his jaw until his lips hovered beside his ear.  His voice was dark and breathless with filthy promise as he whispered.  “Gonna fuck you properly next time Sammy.  You can wrap your legs around me just like this while your ass wraps around my dick.  Would you like that?  Do you want me inside you?  God, I'll bet you feel fucking amazing.” 

Sam shuddered as Dean's words sent him over the edge.  “Fuck, fuck, yes oh... fuck...Dean!”  His body arched into Dean as he came, hips thrusting hard enough to actually lift his brother off the bed slightly.  His vision grayed out a bit along the edges as a jolt of pleasure exploded through his body, leaving him tingling and sensitive in its wake. He was barely able to keep his eyes open as he looked up and saw Dean staring down at him with lust and love and something like awe.  He grinned and wrapped his legs impossibly tighter around Dean's waist as he reached up and took his face between his hands, drawing him down to crash their lips together in a searing kiss, only pulling away when his lungs were burning with the need for oxygen. 

When Sam finally released his mouth, Dean dropped his head into the crook of his brother's neck, panting harshly into sweat slick skin.  The hot wetness of Sam's release soaked through the thin material of his panties easing the slide of Dean's cock as he fucked against him.  “So good Sammy.  So... _ah_...fucking good for me.  Perfect.  Fucking love you so fucking much.   _Hah_... _uh_... **fuck**.  Fuck Sammy.  Fucking...fu...”  Dean was reduced to inarticulate grunts and moans as heat and blinding pleasure coiled in his stomach, needing just one last push to punch through him.  Sam gave it to him.  He wrapped his arms around Dean, tenderly cradling the back of his head as he pressed a soft kiss to the sweaty hair at his temple and whispered.  “Let it go Dean.  I've got you.  You can let go now.”  With a breathless sob, Dean came harder than he ever had before, liquid heat splashing across Sam's abdomen and up his chest.  Dean collapsed on his brother, not giving a single fuck about the mess smeared between their bodies as he shuddered through the aftermath. Sam ran soothing hands along his back and shoulders, calming the both of them.  Once he pulled himself together enough to move, Dean rolled off of Sam, flopping bonelessly beside him on the bed.  They should clean up.  Soon.  Eventually.  Once he could walk again.  When he finally spoke, his voice was completely wrecked. “Fucking hell Sammy. That...that was...” 

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah.  Yeah, it was.”  He turned his head to look over at Dean, the first threads of doubt creeping into his thoughts.  He had just had amazing, mind blowing, hot as **fuck** sex.  With his brother.  Not that he felt guilty about it.  Not at all.  He had come to grips with his feelings for Dean years ago.  Besides, consensual incest was far from the worst thing either of them had ever done.  If they were going to hell, it wasn't for this.  No, what he was worried about was Dean's reaction now that the heat of the moment had passed.  Sure, he had said “next time” and “I love you” but that had been in the thick of things.  Now that the hormones and adrenaline were fading, how would he react?  Would he freak out and run?  Pull a Winchester Special and ignore it all together, pretending nothing had changed?  Or, even worse, push him away again.  His heart gave a painful lurch at the thought and he started to head off any objections or accusations that Dean might have.  “Dean, listen...” 

Dean looked over at his brother and could practically see the gears turning in his head.  As usual, he was thinking way too hard and working himself into a panic.  He'd probably want to talk about their fucking feelings now.  Not that they shouldn't.  They definitely should.  Eventually.  But right now all he wanted was to bask in the afterglow of the best sex he'd ever had in his entire fucking life, and find a way to reassure Sammy that he wasn't going to bolt on him without feeling like he was stuck in a damn chick flick.  So when his brother opened his mouth to start a heart to heart that would surely have had Oprah in tears, there was only one thing to do.  He leaned in and kissed Sammy as thoroughly as possible, one hand tangling in his hair while the other grazed lightly across the bite mark on his chest.  When he finally pulled away Sam's expression was dazed, with the beginning of a hopeful smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.  Dean gave him another quick peck on the lips before flashing him a brilliant, mischievous grin.  “Hey Sammy. Next time....wear the pink ones.”

 

 

 


End file.
